I clean it up with toilet paper and flush the blood and the memories of you away. For good.
He rambles. She feigns interest but she’s not interested in whatever he has to say. I remember when we talked to each other that way. Like when everyone wondered why we were “together” because they didn’t understand. I don’t understand. But I don’t judge either.
You and me Kiddo. I’d say. And you’d say you and me Mama, forever. We were out there, making our life together. But four years of each other instead turned out to be enough.
We have forgotten. What is real. The feelings that you aspire. The person you want to become. We have forgotten.
It is nice to listen to my sad music and not be thinking of any single person in particular because the songs no longer overwhelm me elutriate me to tears.
Flying over far away, into the distant blue. Hidden, but also, in plain view.
Starting over isn’t just about moving to another state, neighborhood, or house, changing careers, getting rid of fake friends or terrible spouses, or about running away. Starting over is a state of mind. It means that when something has finished, something new must and will inevitably begin, and you are making the choice to start over as a person that directs the journey for what that new beginning will look like.
I’m tired of looking for love when all I really want is great sex. I’m tired of expecting more, idealistically knowing full well that’s not how this works, how it happens. This is as good as it gets.
The need to reconcile is so strong within me that I can’t tell whether I really want you again or if I just want reconciliation. Some things should not be mended once two people have broken them. Should they?
She stares into oblivion. She stares deep into you. Can you stare back Can you see her?